


Tension

by emmastrenchcoat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Percy deserves love, Protective Oliver, Sexual Tension, Winter Holidays at Hogwarts, but it ends well, there's a fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmastrenchcoat/pseuds/emmastrenchcoat
Summary: As the Winter Holidays in Hogwarts leave Percy Weasley as the only boy in his year in Gryffindor, and his crush on the gorgeous Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood leaves him lonely, Percy decides to sleep in Oliver's bed while he's gone. The problem? Oliver isn't gone. And in the coming weeks, Percy learns the definition of tension.\\ No spoilers





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing HP/ Perciver. I hope it's alright & you enjoy the story! Please let me know if there's anything you have to say, be it good or bad!

It was winter. Finally, finally it was winter. To most Hogwarts students, it meant going back home. To some, like Percy Weasley, it meant more time to study. Such was his nature, and as much as his brothers- which, beginning this year, also included Ron- liked to tease him about his studious nature, Percy’s brains were the only thing he was truly proud of. Apart from his status as Prefect, of course.

Everything else about Percy was, well, boring. He didn't look particularly good, he was about as sporty as a hedgehog, and his social skills were fairly nonexistent. What it all boiled down to was that he was the exact opposite of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood. 

Oliver Wood was everything Percy was not, and more. He was gorgeous and a practical lass magnet, his body was (as Percy had accidentally noticed in the showers) toned and taut, his muscles showing just enough to be noticeable, and not enough to be repulsive. He had rugged brown hair which matches his slightly messy look, and his charm was unmatched. This slight mess should have put prim Percy off, yet it was one of the qualities Percy adored the most. Too many times had he caught himself thinking about this boy. Despite being dorm-mates, Percy had never spoken much to Oliver. Truth was, he was too afraid. 

The years in which Percy had so desperately tried denying what he felt for Oliver had only worsened his affection towards him. So it came that every touch from Oliver was warm and exciting, every bit of eye contact made his heart do a somersault, and every time Percy attempted to breach the topic of romance, he blushed so furiously he thought better of it. 

Naturally they still had other conversations, though Oliver did most of the talking. Percy liked it. He could keep his mouth shut and just enjoy the euphonious sound of Oliver’s voice. He could just submit to whatever topic of conversation Oliver felt like breaching. 

These holidays, however, Oliver was going back home to his family, and as much as Percy would miss him, it was for the better. He could finally get tonnes of fully concentrated studying done, he could get into that new book of his, and...Percy sighed. He was embarrassed by his awful habit, his dirty little secret, but whenever Oliver was back at home during the holidays, Percy liked to sleep in his bed. Granted it was creepy, but he did wash the sheets after the holidays were done. Sighing, he carried his own laundry, including bedsheets, to the washing. 

Upon return to his dorm- he would be the only one staying there over the holidays- Percy let himself flop down onto Oliver’s bed. It smelled like him. It was warm and a thousand times more comfortable than his own bed. The redhead pulled out his book, nuzzled into the corner where Oliver’s headboard met the wall, and began reading. 

He didn't get all that far. About 100 pages into his book, the door flew open. Percy’s head shot up, and he was sure he was blushing furiously. It only got worse when he realised who was standing in the door frame: Oliver Wood. He wore a chocolate brown jumper that matched his gorgeous eyes, and his hair was slightly ruffled from the wind outside. He set down his bag, and looked at Percy. Expecting him to cry out loud indignantly at Percy’s disrespectful behaviour, Percy braced himself mentally and decided on an excuse (after all, his own bedding truly was in the washing). But nothing came. Oliver was a bit taken aback at first, but his somewhat confused expression quickly turned into a smile as he flopped down onto his bed next to Percy. Oliver explained that he had changed his mind last-minute, and decided to stay in Hogwarts over the winter holidays after all.

Percy began apoligising profusely.

“Perce”, Oliver interrupted him, Percy blushing at the nickname,“stop it.” 

Percy, for once, shut up. 

Oliver said no more, simply taking out a book of his own (“Modern Quidditch Strategies”- why was he not surprised?). He shuffled closer until his body was right next to Percy’s, his back leaning against the wall; the brunet pulled up his blanket over their legs (it was winter, after all).

“This okay?”, he asked softly. It was a voice Percy adored, and it was so seldom that he got to hear it. Oliver’s outspoken personality didn’t often allow for this quiet, almost shy tone of voice. But Merlin, if Percy didn’t adore the way it resonated in his chest, the low volume alone indicating that they were close. He nodded and Oliver smiled. 

Without a further word, they dove back into their reading. Percy’s book, as interesting as it was, was not enough to distract him from Oliver’s warm leg and arm, pressed up against his own side-by-side. It was not enough to distract him from Oliver’s slightly-furrowed brow, his lips faintly mouthing some words Percy couldn’t distinguish. He recognised the faint remnants of a bruise on his upper cheek as he let his eyes trace every inch of Oliver’s face.

They read for a long time. It surprised Percy, because Oliver never tended to read for more than an hour or so at a time. He didn’t know what time it was, and didn’t want to get up to check, but the darkness outside and the quiet of the Gryffindor common room told him it was late. He yawned, involuntarily, and his eyelids were heavy. Percy kept reading, he didn’t want to stop. Eventually though, he must have dozed off. His head slowly sank onto Oliver’s shoulder, whose body tensed up barely noticeably (not noticeably at all for Percy, who was half asleep) and then relaxed as he felt Percy’s soft breaths against his neck. Oliver sighed, a hint of colour spreading across his cheeks; tentatively he lifted his other arm, the one that wasn’t against Percy’s, and brought it to the ginger’s face. He cupped his cheek, his thumb tracing little circles on Percy’s porcelain skin. His cheekbone was noticeable, but didn’t stick out too far. It was just enough to give his face character, something distinct. Percy had always been something distinct to Oliver. 

Oliver Wood had always admired Percy’s looks, his fiery hair and beautiful light eyelashes. He’d wanted to run his finger along the ginger’s cheek for a long time, tracing his thumb along his godly skin. Oliver’s eyes fell to Percy’s lips; they were slightly parted, and glistened in the dim lighting of his bedside lamp. How he longed to kiss Percy. It was a horrible thought, for he knew Percy would never too feel his boyish desires, but he couldn’t help but smile whenever he saw Percy, to let the Prefect be his go-to daydream, and his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat whenever they touched. He should be dead by now, considering how long he’d been caressing Percy’s cheek for. If Percy woke up now, Oliver would sure hope he was, too. But that didn’t happen. 

The night dragged on. Percy’s bed was still without bedsheets or even a duvet cover, much to Oliver’s contentment. Carefully he put his arms around the ginger’s thin frame, and readjusted him to lie down. He took Percy’s glasses off and put their books onto his nightstand, then climbed into bed himself. He admired Percy in his peaceful sleep: he looked so untroubled, his chest rising and falling steadily. Oliver could stare at him forever, but was tired himself and so he carefully climbed into bed and layed down next to his friend. His friend.

Oliver repeated it to himself several times. They were friends, and Percy’s bedding was simply in the wash. That was it. There was nothing more. 

It didn’t stop Oliver from turning sideways and pulling his friend into a loose embrace. His heart melted when Percy tightened it, nuzzling his head into Oliver’s chest. 

The moonlight faintly illuminated their faces, and Oliver fell asleep smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if this chapter comes across as a load of rambling.. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

Oliver woke up with empty arms. Percy had already gotten up, and if Oliver’s ears weren’t playing tricks on him, he was showering that very moment. The brunet got up, his hair impossibly messy, and waited outside of the door to the shower. It opened shortly afterwards, and Percy almost ran into him. He stopped abruptly, and the two boys were face-to-face, so close that their noses almost touched. Percy’s body was wet from his neck-down, his towel only covering his crotch. He opened his mouth to say something, but Oliver managed first.

“Sorry for, uh, not putting you into your own bed. You looked peaceful and-”

For the first time in the years that the boys had known each other, Oliver didn’t know what to say.

“It’s alright”, Percy replied softly, almost affectionately, “it was my fault for being there in the first place: I should not have disobeyed that social rule. Plus,” Percy added more coyly, “I didn’t exactly, er, dislike it.” Percy held eye contact with Oliver, and for a moment they just stood there, considering each other. Then Percy realised his improper behaviour and quickly rushed off to let Oliver use the bathroom. As he got dressed, he scolded himself for making the situation awkward. Percy had always had a knack for making things awkward between him and someone he liked. Well, between him and people in general. But he didn’t want to go down that path of thought today. 

It’d be better if he held himself a bit more distant from Oliver, Percy thought, for their own good. His heart protested as it ached, and Percy vaguely rememberd the previous night. He must have dozed off while reading, but he woke up lying down, with his glasses and book carefully stashed away on Oliver’s nighttable. The only conclusion was that Oliver must have let him sleep. It was an exciting thought, and Percy was tempted to analyse the situation, to convince himself Oliver reciprocated his feelings. But it was impossible. So he didn’t. 

The next few days went by like schooldays; Percy spent most of his time studying, whilst Oliver, even in icy winds, got as much flying practise as he could. Percy conversed with Oliver when Oliver initiated conversation, but kept himself from saying much. It didn’t help himself, as he only grew lonelier and lonelier the more time he spent around Oliver- he longed to touch him, to feel his warmth like he did that night they spent together. Oliver had, of course, sensed something was wrong, and tried speaking to Percy about it. But Percy wouldn’t reveal what was troubling him.

“Percy”, Oliver tried again, his accent creating an intonation to and pronunciation of Percy’s name that no one could match, “why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oliver, I can assure you that nothing is out of the ordinary.”

“Perce, you’re talking like a dictionary. And you didn’t answer my question”.

But the Weasley wouldn’t budge. So Oliver left him, perhaps a bit disappointed. 

The trouble was momentarily forgotten as Christmas day took Percy by surprise. To be more specific, Oliver took Percy by surprise on Christmas day. They had spent the past days in their own beds, only ever stealing glances at the other’s moonlit face and yearning for that night to reoccur, but Percy woke up to Oliver straddling him, his hands resting on either side of Percy’s bright red face. 

“Percy!”, Oliver exclaimed, his face beaming with joy. Percy’s face inched upwards, in an automatic movement to kiss him. He stopped himself in his own tracks, just in time; Oliver was just too bloody adorable. His excitement for Christmans was endearing, and Percy’s heart sunk a little bit at how cute he found the boy in front of him. 

“Come on Percy you lazy git, it’s Christmas!”, Oliver proclaimed, but made no efforts to get off of Percy, who was by now reasonably awake and becoming more aware of the situation. Oliver’s knees were on either side of his waist, which meant that as Oliver was leaning back, their lower abdomens were nearly touching, and by extension-

Fuck. 

“Oliver, I”, Percy started, searching for something in Oliver’s face that would be disgusted by their closeness, something that would give Percy evidence that he shouldn’t enjoy this moment between them, but Oliver only returned his perfervid eye contact. They held it for a moment, and Percy swore he noticed Oliver inch closer, just a bit. His trousers tightened in anticipation.

“Well what are you still doing in our dorm then?”, Percy finally said to Oliver in a hasty attempt to get the brunet off of him so he wouldn’t notice Percy’s raging morning wood, which was now so close to Oliver’s body, and Percy could not stop thinking about it. It worked, thank Merlin, and Percy let out a sigh of relief as Oliver rushed down the stairs.

Percy threw on his robe and followed his friend.

He smiled; he did have something to look forward to. Before he left his dorm he pulled out the small package from under his bed. It was neatly wrapped in red paper, a yellow ribbon decorating its exterior. In small cursive letters, Percy had written “to Oliver” in the top right corner. He concealed it in the folds of his robe as he entered the common room to find the rest of the Gryffindors (those who were staying over Christmas) eagerly unpacking their gifts. He smiled as he saw Harry and Ron put on the jumpers his mum had knitted. Oliver beckoned him over to a quieter corner.

“Merry Christmas, Perce”, Oliver smiled. 

“Merry Christmas, Ollie”, Percy replied, and was flattered when Oliver’s eyes lit up at the use of that nickname (Percy didn’t use it often, after all). 

“I, er, have something for you”, Percy murmured, and handed Oliver the small red package, who beamed at him. Percy nodded a go-ahead at Oliver, who undid the bow that Percy had folded the ribbon into and unwrapped his gift. Two brand-new pairs of Quidditch gloves. Oliver’s eyes went wide and he lunged forwards to pull Percy into a tight hug. 

“Thank you”, he whispered as his hands pulled Percy closer by the waist (thank Merlin that morning wood from earlier had gone), who melted into Oliver’s arms, although he was scolding himself in the back of his head for not keeping his self-inflicted promise of distance. 

As they pulled away Oliver handed him a gift as well. It was wrapped in dark blue paper, and although it was messy, Oliver had clearly put a lot of effort into it. Percy was beside himself and utterly flattered as he opened it. 

“The full edition of ‘History of the Ministry of Magic’!”, Percy exclaimed, “thank you, Oliver”. 

It was a wonderful morning. Even Ron and Harry noticed Percy’s relaxed shoulders and faint but omnipresent smile that day. 

It only lasted for the day, though, as Percy’s gloom returned along with the guilt for letting himself go. He replayed that memory of the hug many times, and got angrier and angier with himself for holding it for so long. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just keep his distance? His worst fear at that moment was being weird towards Oliver, and sending him signals for something the other didn’t want. 

Percy was conflicted. To say the least.

On so many occasions had the two boys come face-to-face, their mouths so close, their voices so low, yet neither had gone any further. Percy didn’t know what to make of it, because he wanted to believe that Oliver reciprocated his feelings. Yet he wouldn’t let himself, because he knew how outspoken and direct Oliver was. He was sure, absolutely sure, that Oliver would have made a move had we wanted to. But he didn’t. It was a fact. There was nothing between them.

It angered Percy, and the quality of his studying declined until it was impossible to sit down without thinking about Oliver. He thought he was going to go mad. How pathetic. How completely and utterly pathetic. He had to clear his head. 

So, Percy went outside for a walk, despite the freezing weather. It was good, though, because it meant he was alone. That is, until Oliver ran towards him. 

“Perce, what”, Oliver breathed heavily, “the bloody hell are you doing out here? It’s freezing”. Oliver puts a hand on Percy’s shoulder, who tenses up at the touch. Visibly so. 

“I just need a moment to clear my head”, Percy says, revealing not a single morsel of the emotional shipwreck he was on. Oliver tried to make eye contact, tried searching for a sign for him to stay, but received nothing. Clearly hurt, he walked back to the common room, where he was still, hours later, when Percy returned. He was in the shower though, so Percy sat down on his bed and opened a book. Any book, it didn’t matter. 

He was still distraught and at a loss for what to do; there was no way he could continue like this, pining for someone who had no reason to be interested in him. But he also couldn’t tell Oliver. It would ruin the friendship they had only just built. The years they had spent together before were nothing more than an icebreaker and Percy’s hopeless staring: it was really only in the past few months that Percy had truly allowed himself to get to know Oliver, to show his true interest in his hobbies and ambitions. Lost in his thoughts and mindlessly staring at his open book, he didn’t notice the bathroom door open, and it was only when Oliver’s voice boomed through the room that Percy looked up. He was met with the stare of a furious pair of eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

“What the fuck is wrong with you”, Oliver screamed, “you could have died out there! Do you have any idea how cold it is?”

Percy stared at him, with his still wet hair but otherwise dry and clothed body, took his wand, and cast a silencing spell on their dorm. 

“I can make my own decisions, thank you very much”, he replied coldly. It was so much easier to be angry with Oliver than be honest with him.

“Well you’re very clearly not making any good ones”, Oliver retorted, then added, “and what’s the deal with you anyway? Huh, Percy? I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me, but every time I even touch you, you run away. You’re a coward, you know that, Weasley?”

Percy felt attacked. He didn’t deserve that one. 

“What do you know, Wood”, Percy cried back at him as he stood up, thankful for that silencing spell he cast, “What do you know of what I’m going through?”

Oliver opened his mouth to yell back, but Percy continued.

“Nothing, do you hear me? NOTHING”. By now Percy was screaming. They were facing each other. He didn’t care. “You haven’t got the faintest idea. All you ever think about is Quidditch. If your brain wasn’t the size of a pea you’d probably have realised what’s going on. But no. All you ever think about is yourself. So don’t you dare feign interest in my problems, Oliver.” 

Percy didn’t know where all that anger came from. It was internalised, it was anger at himself. There was no reason to be shouting at Oliver, but he did it anyway, because it felt good, it felt good to blame someone, so he didn’t stop. 

“Just because I’m not a perfect Prefect like you, Percy, doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Perhaps if you weren’t avoiding me like the plague I’d be able to see what’s wrong, Merlin curse it.”

Oliver took a few steps closer as he spat the words out. 

“Exactly, this is exactly what I mean”, Percy averred, his voice cold and low. 

“What, what do you mean. For fuck’s sake, Perce, stop being such a bloody coward and tell me to my face”, Oliver threatened, stepping even closer to Percy, who by now had backed into the wall behind him. Oliver didn’t stop until his hands were pressed firmly against the wall, either side of Percy’s head. 

Percy knew there was no way out. He stood no chance against someone built like Wood was.

“You really didn’t think about why I might be avoiding you”, Percy half-asked, half-stated. He was setting foot onto a frozen lake of which he didn’t know the thickness of the ice.

“Because you hate me”, Oliver retorted, almost too calmly. Percy was taken aback by this. His eyes widened. 

“No”, he whispered, slightly shaking his head, “no, no, Oliver you’ve got it wrong”, he repeated more loudly, “you really didn’t...?”

“Didn’t what, Percy, stop speaking in riddles. I’ve lost my patience with this”, Oliver hissed. 

“You didn’t know I’m in l-”, Percy started, and his body slumped like a dead balloon. He couldn’t finish his sentence but he knew that Oliver had realised. There it was, that step too far on the frozen lake. He’d fallen into icy water, and there were plenty of hungry fish below. 

“You’re in love with me”, Oliver finished the sentence, and there was no hint of emotion in his voice. “You’re in love with me and you didn’t tell me?”, he shouted again.

“Of course I didn’t bloody tell you. The last thing I needed was rejection and to be laughed at even more than I am already.”

Oliver was furious. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, you know that? Smartest boy in school, but can’t use his brain for one second to think about himself.”

“Leave me alone, Oliver, I’ve had enough. You know now, isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t this what you wanted?”, Percy shouted again, and tried pushing past Oliver’s arm. 

He held it in place. 

“Let me g-”, Percy hissed at Oliver, but didn’t get to finish his sentence because Oliver slammed him back into the wall, releasing his hands from the stone in favour of Percy’s face. And then he kissed him. Furiously, passionately, with so much anger on his tongue he kissed Percy breathless, and when he pulled apart, still cupping the ginger’s cheeks, he panted, just as angrily as before, “Percy I made one move of unprecedented affection on you, and your response is shutting yourself off from me. I thought you disliked it. But I’ve seen you stare at me in the shower when you think I’m not looking.”

Percy blushed at this.

“I’ve seen you in the bleachers at quidditch, even though you claim you don’t like the game. I’ve felt your heartbeat triple when we hug. But I wanted to wait, Percy, I wanted to wait until I was sure it was more than a crush.”

Percy was incredulous. He expected anything but this. 

“I felt horrible when you started ignoring me”, Oliver continued, “I thought that was it. I had just made a move and you backed off. You didn’t even think to just fucking talk to me. You just wandered off into your own world.  
How much fucking clearer do I have to make it that I like you?”

Oliver was furious. Percy didn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to do. All he knew is that he wanted Oliver, so he grabbed the brunet’s face and pulled him in for another kiss. It was a wrestle for dominance, their tongues dancing a heated dance as Oliver tried to keep Percy pinned against the wall. The Prefect was pushing into the kiss, his hands having moved to Oliver’s back, and pulling him as close as possible. Oliver wasn’t having any of it. He was there to show Percy who was in control now, so he took his small wrists and pinned Percy’s arms above his head by the wall. Percy’s breath hitched as Oliver began kissing his neck, nibbling and sucking on the skin there until a small purple mark appeared, right where everyone would see it. Percy didn’t dare complain. There was a euphoric rush to it, and Merlin, Oliver’s mouth was wonderful. 

The brunet had stopped kissing him, and just as they had so many times prior, they shared moments of eye contact. Oliver raked his eyes all over Percy’s body, then leaned in to nip and Percy’s ear lobe.

“Merlin, Perce”, he muttered, “you’re so bloody gorgeous”. 

“Now that’s a lie and a half, Oliver”, Percy managed to say between gritten teeth. If he let his mouth relax he’d moan, for sure. Oliver suddenly let go of one of Percy’s wrists, leading the other down his body, and right before Percy was about to move under Oliver’s robe, the latter let go of his wrist. 

“If you think I’m a liar”, Oliver whispered, “go ahead.”

Percy’s breath hitched. He’d been wanting to touch Oliver like this for so long. His hand hovered, and his heart went racing. Then he moved it forwards until he felt Oliver’s cock. It twitched under Percy’s touch.

Oliver exhaled sharply, and moved his right hand under Percy’s shirt and up his torso, where he started moving his thumb over Percy’s nipple.

The unexpected sensation caught Percy off guard, and he moaned against Oliver’s neck as he moved his free arm around the Quidditch Captain’s back to stabilise himself. His other hand involuntarily tightened its grip around Oliver’s cock, who gave a little groan from himself. 

“Oliver”, Percy gasped, and began slowly stroking Oliver’s length through his clothes, “please, Oliver, I want you.”

Oliver smiled against Percy’s mouth as he kissed him. Without wasting another moment, Oliver flipped him around, putting slight pressure onto Percy’s back as he admired him from behind.

“Is this you giving up control, Percy? Voluntarily?”

Percy whined. Oliver moved forwards and pressed himself against Percy’s body; then, he started grinding his hips into him. 

“Tell me what you want”, the brunet teased as his erection pushed against Percy’s (unfortunately still clothed) arse.

“You”, Percy breathed, then moaned as Oliver pushed into him again, “please, I just want you to-”  
And he cut himself off with another moan.

“You want me to do what”, the other teased, although he clearly knew exactly what Percy meant. He wanted him to fully give up control. Luckily for him, the idea aroused Percy beyond anything. 

“I want you to fuck me”, Percy said quietly, and whined through closed lips as Oliver reached around to touch his raging hard cock through his trousers, “Please”, he added. 

“There’s a good boy”, Oliver replied, satisfied. He led Percy to his bed, and climbed on top of him. 

“You are wearing far too many clothes, Weasley”, Oliver murmured as he kissed Percy passionately, and nearly forcefully. He nipped his lower lip before pulling his own shirt over his shoulders, then doing the same to Percy. Pleased by the newly exposed, freckled skin, Oliver brought his mouth to one of Percy’s nipples. 

“Oh, oh fuck”, Percy whined, arching his back off of the bed.

“You like that, do you”, Oliver smirked, and continued licking as he unbuttoned Percy’s pants, pulling them off halfway before starting on his own. They only had their boxers on now, and Percy was panting heavily even before Oliver started palming him through his underwear. Soon enough he switched from his hand to his mouth, moving his face down until he breathed against Percy’s tent, “you sure, Perce?”

Percy ran his hand through Oliver’s surprisingly soft, dishevelled hair, and nodded. Oliver placed a small kiss onto Percy’s pants, a gesture so oddly cute that Percy wanted to kiss him again. The feeling soon enough faded as Oliver pulled his boxers down and licked a stripe along the bottom of Percy’s now fully hard cock. 

“Oh my, oh, oh Oliver”, Percy panted as Oliver took his member into his hand, pumping it slowly.

“Where’s your lubricant”, Oliver asked Percy, who went crimson as he stuttered, “how did you-”

Oliver chuckled, a real laugh from the bottom of his chest, “Percy Weasley, I would bet two Quidditch cups on the fact that you’ve fingered yourself before”. His nonchalance was impossibly hot, and Percy just got up and reached the very back of a drawer in his nightstand. The bottle was nearly empty. Oliver smirked, but didn’t comment. 

Instead, he invited Percy onto his lap, popped open the bottle, and coated both of them in a generous amount, as well as three of his fingers. His other hand grabbed both of their cocks and began moving his hand in a slow, steady rhythm. Percy moaned in appreciation. It felt good. Incredibly good. When Oliver stopped moving his hand, Percy whined and begged for him to continue.

“I think you’ll like what’s next even better”, Oliver breathed against Percy’s mouth, who had leaned down to kiss him. Carefuly, Oliver traced his fingers in a circle around Percy’s hole. The latter’s breathing sped up, and when Oliver finally pushed his finger on, he moaned and pushed back.

Oliver soon added a second, then a third finger, pushing them in and out of Percy, increasingly quickly as Percy moaned and his body shook with pleasure as he further spread his legs.

“Oh, oh, oh fuck”, Percy panted and whined, “Oliver, please. I want you”.

“You’re so bloody hot like this, you know that Percy”, Oliver responded, “all undone and asking for it”.

And then, as he pulled out his fingers and lined his cock up with Percy’s hole, “Want you to beg for me, Perce, want you to moan my name when you come”. Percy thought he was going to lose his mind. 

“Please, Oliver, I need you right now. Give it to me, please”, Percy whined, then the brunet grabbed his hip and guided him to sink down onto his cock. Percy felt an unfamiliar, slightly stinging, but undeniably pleasurable tightness, and he whined. 

“Oh, Merlin, oh, Oliver you’re so”, Percy gasped, “fuck, you’re big”. He wasn’t lying; it hurt one hell of a lot more than he expected it to, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy every bit of it.

Oliver took in the sight of his friend, his chest and cheeks flushed a raspberry red, his thighs tensing as he picked up a steady pace, all while muttering Oliver’s name along with “please” and “yes” over and over. It was a sight Oliver wished he could savour forever. 

He still fipped them over, Percy now lying on his stomach, back arched as Oliver pushed inside him again. He moved his hand to tease Percy’s nipples, the other touching his cock. Percy hid his head in the pillow and the brunet only heard remnants of his noises. He kissed a trail along Percy’s back, up his neck, then whispered into his ear, “want to hear your noises, want to hear you come”. 

He began slowly thrusting into Percy, who pushed back with just as much enthusiasm, letting his mouth spill all sorts of profanities and noises. Their fight had been forgotten and set aside, as all that both could think about was the here and now, their intimacy and that intense closeness neither had ever experienced before. Percy whined.

“Oliver, I’m”, he cut himself off with a moan, “I’m close. Don’t stop, please don’t stop”.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about this, Percy? Thought about my cock fucking you like this”, he panted as he sped up, “moaned my name as you came?”

Percy didn’t answer, his fists holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. He didn’t have to, Oliver already knew the answer; but they both liked hearing it anyway. 

“I know I’ve thought about this a lot”, Oliver continued taunting him, “I think about you all the time. Like this. Exposed, naked, under my control. And you love it, don’t you Percy?”

In that moment Oliver thrust into him again, harder and faster, but this time was different. He'd found Percy's prostate.

Percy arched his back and pushed back onto Oliver, with an out-of-breath "oh". 

"Oh", he moaned again, "Oliver, do that again, fuck, please."

"Yes, fuck right there, keep going", Percy exclaimed, ecstatic, "fuck it feels so good, Oliver. Please don't stop, I'm- fuck, fuck, fuck".

Oliver had never heard Percy swear before that evening, and every swearword that slipped his mouth only added to Oliver's pleasure; here he was, the always-prim-and-proper-Percy, coming undone right before his eyes.

“Oh, oh fuck, Oliver, I’m going to”, Percy warned him, and Oliver stroked his cock faster, leaning over to bite his earlobe again. 

“Come for me Percy”, he whispered, and not long afterwards he felt Percy clench around him, moaning his name over and over, and it was blasphemous. It was beautiful. Thick, white strands went all over the bedsheets, and what was normally disgusting to Oliver was all the more arousing in that moment.

“Fuck, Percy”, Oliver groaned as he was thrown over the edge by the sensation of Percy, fucked out underneath him, tightening around him even more. And then he came, and he could have sworn his vision went black for a moment. 

For a long time, the only thing they heard was each other’s hard breathing. Oliver layed down next to Percy, who had turned around, come still on his stomach. They glanced at each other, and Oliver reached for Percy’s hand, who took it and held it tightly. Then, after a while, he turned sideways to face Oliver. He leaned in, and in contrast to all the heated, charged kisses they’d previously shared, this one was slow and sweet; it was passionate in a whole new way. They pulled back just enough to be able to talk.

“Do you want to go take a shower?”, Percy suggested quietly. Oliver smiled and touched his cheek, stroking it tentatively.

“Yeah”. 

Percy sighed, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!  
> I hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
